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Open Poetry #48
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ponderthepoetorrsx
Member
since 2011-06-25
Posts 284
U.S , Ca

0 posted 2012-02-05 09:56 PM




Outside I sit in the rain,
Crystalline droplets mixing with my tears,

Outside I sit in the night
Alone in the darkness of my life.
I’ve no blade to comfort me; I see no point in pain.

“I was such a fool, such a fool”
I chant to myself,
As I rip to shreds the red roses,
That were meant for her.

I was too afraid, too slow to act, to love.
How could I not be?
I had never felt this way before.
I think as I cry silently beneath the falling rain, alone.

The music inside me is long dead,
I’ve no energy to love,
I’ve lost the power to feel
Everything but pain.

I am not who I once was,
The happy frolicking child at play,
Died when I met life, who brought along fate,
Who, in turn brought her to my sight.

I feel a sudden chill,
What is life? What is life, but senseless agony?
Some say life is after all unreal,
“a dream within a dream”.

The will to live is gone, everyday is the same.
People around me, those who say, are, or were my friends
(What is a friend after all?) Mutter amongst themselves asking what is wrong?
I drain all hope from those around me, and they quietly whisper “he’s gone insane.”

I sometimes wish I could say,
But I really don’t care; I’ve been hurt, and inside
I’m screaming, hurting. Crying, and dying.
My tears mingle with the rain, as I ram my head against the wall.

She’s miles away in my past,
With the old familiar faces.
And as I lay myself to sleep,
And in the darkness drift away,
I begin to dream

Life’s eternal darkness,

Terrified I wake,
As rain splatters on my window pane.
Terrified I wake, I sleep,
I wake, I sleep,
i wake i sleep will it ever end?
Is life an eternal struggle against both reality and dreams?
(originally posted in the dark section sorry if it is cross posting)

© Copyright 2012 richard salgado - All Rights Reserved
JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
1 posted 2012-02-05 09:58 PM


Oh, boy, do I ever relate to this. Good very good poetry, ponderthepoetorrsx.

At a cocktail party, one woman said to another,
'Aren't you wearing your wedding ring on the wrong finger?'
'Yes, I am. I married the wrong man.'

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